


Happy Endings

by distantsun



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Banter, F/M, Fluff, Massage, Nick is a goddamn tease, No Plot/Plotless, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:06:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5641999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantsun/pseuds/distantsun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written by request, this is just a little plotless bit of porn and fluff with a generic F!SS. Synth hands are good at massages. (If you hate me for the title, don't worry, I hate myself more.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Endings

“Should have let me carry more, kid,” Nick chided gently, watching her rotate her shoulder and wince.

She grinned, tilting her head to stretch her neck. “You brought back three bags of junk and a minigun, Nick. If I wanted to load someone up like a pack brahmin, I’d travel with Strong.”

“Might not be a bad idea,” Nick mused, lighting a cigarette. “You two could have some fascinating philosophical discussions.”

“Yes, well, when I want to debate the relative merits of ‘humans stupid’ and ‘all humans die!’ I’ll switch you out, partner.” Despite the ache settling deep in her muscles, she felt herself relaxing. Trading easy banter with Nick tended to have that effect.

Nick in _general_ had that effect. She tried not to look at him too obviously, watching him through her hair as she stretched. He was leafing through a case file while he smoked his cigarette. She imagined he wasn’t all that tired, despite the long day of scouting and his general careworn appearance.

“You should sleep,” he said without looking up. “Another long day tomorrow.”

Her back popped, and she groaned faintly. “Might be too sore to sleep. And no offense, Nick, but that bed of yours…” She’d taken to spending the night at the agency on nights when they worked late together. Nick had his own room and his own bed, but for obvious reasons he didn’t get much use out of it himself, so he was happy to allow her a night’s rest there. If she occasionally, or more than occasionally, thought about him sharing it with her, well, that was only to be expected.

“Well, when you come across a fancy queen-sized hotel mattress with satin sheets in the next Raider lair you clean out, feel free to bring it here,” he said mildly.

“Mmm. I’ll even let you carry it.” She lifted herself slowly from her chair and made her way toward the back of the office, trying not to wince as she walked. She felt his eyes on her as she passed his desk, and jumped a little at the gentle touch of his hand on her shoulder. “Nick?”

“Sit down.” He stood, gestured to his chair.

“Well, I didn’t mean sleeping at your _desk_ would be more comfortable.” She couldn’t resist teasing him as she settled into the seat, still warm from him, and tilted her head back to look at him.

He gave her a wry smirk. “Surprised your _mouth_ doesn’t get tired from all that time you spend running it.” Then he was lifting her hair gently off her neck, placing it over one shoulder. Before she could respond, his good hand closed around her other shoulder and rubbed, firm and rhythmic.

She opened her mouth to make some kind of smart comment, but embarrassingly, all that came out was a sort of mumbled groan. He was _good._ The enhanced strength in his hand was obvious, but he controlled it carefully, finding the knots in her shoulders and neck and manipulating them away with just the right amount of pressure.

“Used to be pretty good at this,” he said quietly.

“Past tense isn’t necessary,” she said. “Mmm. Lower.”

After a moment he carefully placed his other hand, the metal one, against her neck. She winced, because it was cold and a little sharp, but her body heat warmed it quickly and he was gentle, using the metal fingers to pinpoint pressure on the spots where she was most tense.

It was the best massage she’d ever received in her life, if she was being honest. It felt good, and it was Nick’s hands on her. As hard as she tried to remember that it was (probably) just a platonic backrub between partners, she couldn’t help wondering if those hands were as talented _everywhere,_ and once that train of thought left the station it went careening down the tracks and there was no retrieving it.

Soon she was trying, and failing, not to squirm, feeling her whole body flush with sudden heat. Her skin felt unbearably sensitive under his touch, as if some of the electricity that kept him moving was sparking through his fingers. She bit her lip, fighting to stay quiet, but couldn’t hold back a gasp when one of his metal fingers dug into a sensitive spot on her neck.

“You okay?” He stopped immediately, concern in his voice, and withdrew his hand-- strange as the metal was, she missed the pressure. “Should’ve known this old claw wouldn’t help matters much. Sorry--”

“No,” she managed, reaching back to grab his hand and put it back on her shoulder. “It’s fine. Trust me.”

“If you say so, kid,” he said skeptically, and resumed, though she could feel him holding back his strength. His hand moved down her spine, rubbing in circles, and her back arched and she heard herself _whimper_ and cursed her treacherous body.

“Now I’m hurting you,” he said, and his hands went away and she couldn’t help leaning back into him.

“Nick.” She turned to meet his eyes, feeling her face heat up. “You… um. You’re _not..._ hurting me.”

“But…” He must have seen something in her face, because his eyes narrowed slightly, then widened slightly. “Oh,” he said. _“Oh.”_

She cleared her throat, considered making a joke, considered saying something suggestive, rejected both ideas and cleared her throat again.

“I’m sorry.” He backed up a few steps, his eyes flickering down to the floor. “Wasn’t-- uh. Wasn’t very professional of me, I guess. I didn’t mean--”

“Oh, Nick, don’t apologize. I mean, we wouldn’t want to make this _awkward_.” She shot him a wry smile, which he hesitantly returned.

“Heaven forbid,” he retorted dryly. “No, I get it. I’m sure it’s… ah. Been a while.” He was making a face that suggested that if he were capable of turning red, he’d be rapidly approaching several shades of crimson. “Must’ve been a _long_ while if even these broken old digits could get your motor running…”

She frowned, and rolled forward in his chair to close the gap between them. “Is that what you think?”

“Is what--”

She stood, silenced him with a finger on his lips. “That was nice, Nick,” she said, very softly. “Really nice. And I’d hate to keep you from your work, but I think if you wanted to keep going--” her stomach did a nervous flip, and she nearly whispered the last words-- “I think that would be just fine.”

Nick’s face registered disbelief bordering on mild shock, and she held her breath. Then his lips twitched, and he chuckled, and she breathed again. “Would it now,” he said thoughtfully. “Well. You’d better turn around, then.”

The nervous fluttering in her stomach blossomed into spreading heat as his hands returned to her shoulders, gentler and more deliberate now, his thumbs tracing small circles into her skin. He was standing very close behind her, close enough that if she leaned back just a little her body would be flush with his. She let her head fall back, her lips nearly brushing his jaw.

His hands cupped her upper arms, gently massaging the muscles there, then trailed down her back to her waist. “I’m running out of appropriate areas to touch here,” he murmured into her ear.

_“Nick.”_ She laughed, short and breathy, her voice catching in a gasp as he lightly ran metal fingers down her spine. He did it again, and she arched helplessly, breath coming fast and shallow.

His arm wrapped around her waist, holding her still while he touched her, bare fingers moving over her shoulders and back and sides with torturously gentle, scraping caresses that set her nerves on fire. She couldn’t stop herself from shivering, couldn’t stop the small sounds of need from escaping her throat.

“Like playing a piano,” he said into her ear, low and amused. “I could do this all night.”

“Don’t you _dare, _” she said, and turned her head to kiss him. His mouth was warm and tasted of tobacco, and he kissed her back with an enthusiasm that wiped any lingering worries out of her mind.__

“Nick, I’ve wanted--” she began breathlessly when their lips parted, but he chose that moment to unzip her suit halfway and slide his hand inside to cup her breast, pulling her firmly back against him, and she lost the words entirely.

“Shhh, doll. Time for all that later.” His lips brushed her shoulder tenderly, and his fingers pinched her nipple roughly, and something about the contrast nearly made her lose control right there. “Just need you to relax and feel good for me now, okay?”

She moaned a wordless response. Nick’s good hand was flat on her stomach, holding her still, applying firm pressure when her hips bucked to keep her against him. She could feel the warmth of him, practically feel the rhythm of the motors and gears that kept him moving, like a heartbeat. He dragged his fingers across one breast, then the other, then along her chest and collarbones, his teasing touches relentless, overstimulating, almost but not quite painful.

Her head fell onto his shoulder, and she pressed her cheek into the rough, worn material of his coat and bit her lip hard to stay quiet.

“No,” he said, and she felt cool fingers on her face, against her lips. “Let me hear you.”

She could feel her cheeks flushing, but she obeyed, crying out sharply when his hand slid down her stomach, his fingers easing her open agonizingly slowly. He kissed her shoulder and chuckled softly. “This what you need, doll?” He dipped one finger teasingly into her, then slid it out deliberately. “Or should I stop? Are you _relaxed_ enough now?”

She made a noise that she hoped clearly conveyed the idea that she might actually have to shoot him if he thought about stopping now, and also that she was going to _get_ him for this, hopefully in some way that would involve exploring just what that synthetic body of his was capable of. She wasn’t sure if he got the entirety of the message, but she felt him smile against her shoulder, and his fingers came to life abruptly against her, rubbing slow then stroking fast and oh, that answered _that_ question, his hands _were_ in fact talented at more than just massage.

Her hands made fists in his coat and she leaned on him heavily, letting him take nearly all of her weight (he seemed unconcerned), letting go of all of her tension and the ache of the long day’s walk and everything that wasn’t the way his fingers felt inside her and the sound of his voice in her ear murmuring _“come on, beautiful, let go, come for me.”_ What else could she do but obey?

When the world came back into focus he was holding her tightly, and with what felt like the last of her strength she twisted around in his arms so she was facing him and collapsed against his chest, breathing hard.

He pressed his face into her hair. “Feeling better?”

She managed to lift her head, giving him a look that she hoped was sardonic but, if she was being honest, was probably just dazed and starry-eyed. “You have a talent, Mr. Valentine.”

“I don’t like to brag.” His eyes were warm as he smiled down at her.

“If this PI thing doesn’t work out you could open a massage parlor,” she murmured tiredly, playing with the sleeve of his coat as he hoisted her up into his arms and moved toward the bedroom.

“Happy endings included?” His brow arched.

“Happy endings _not_ included,” she said, as sharply as she could while yawning, “except for _special_ customers.”

He placed her gently on the bed, gazed down at her with a small half-smile on his lips. “Go to sleep, you crazy dame.”

She closed her eyes, glad that his weathered face would be the last thing she saw before sleep overcame her. There would be things to talk about in the morning, and more people to help, and probably more things for her tired and aching body to carry. But for now, she thought before dropping into unconsciousness, the evening had ended on a happy note indeed.


End file.
